


Stop and Go

by Honeymull



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, New York Rangers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-19
Updated: 2012-09-19
Packaged: 2017-11-14 16:34:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/517353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Honeymull/pseuds/Honeymull
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan's learned to wait. So will Steps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stop and Go

**Author's Note:**

> From [](http://detentionlevel.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://detentionlevel.livejournal.com/)**detentionlevel** 's prompt, **orgasm denial** for Pass_Shoot_Porn.

Ryan doesn't like this part.

There's a weird balance to how it all works, after all, how he and Steps work, and making the wrong move at the wrong time - too early, usually - throws a wrench in the gears and then _nobody_ gets laid and nothing gets solved.

But Ryan's learned to wait, and that's. Frustrating as hell, but it's okay.

Derek's wound up like he gets sometimes, fingers flexing rapidly on the controller as he angles his body like it'll help him take the next few killshots better. He's cursing underneath his breath, and he's frowning just that little bit that tells Ryan it's not because he's enjoying the challenge.

He sticks his head into their living room from the kitchen again in time to see Derek get taken out on-screen. "Hey." Derek glances up at him. "You want pizza?"

The controller gets tossed to the side as Derek stretches out on the couch. He rests his head against the armrest and looks at Ryan upside-down. "Pizza's good. Still Chinese in the fridge, though, right?"

Ryan shrugs. "From like, three days ago..." He pops back into the kitchen to grab his phone off the table, scrolls through his contacts to find the place they order from.

"Get me pineapple!" Derek yells from the living room.

"Not even if you sucked my dick!" Ryan yells back, absently. And then freezes, because, whoops. That's not waiting. That's the wrench that fucks things up. Shit.

Derek doesn't answer from the living room, and Ryan unfreezes slowly, dials, and places the order.

He skirts back to the archeway to the living room, and doesn't look at Derek when he says, "It'll be about forty minutes."

Derek doesn't answer, and when Ryan looks at him, he has this - this stupid _face_ on that makes Ryan swallow, and kind of want to punch something.

"Forty minutes?" Derek's staring up at him, eyes big, and Ryan comes further into the room, carefully, because this feels like what they've done before, but it's so _not_ , usually there's no joking about it or talking about it at all, and they're buddies, so that's okay, Derek's still his best friend no matter what.

"Forty minutes," Ryan tries to say, dumb and inane, but he's standing right in front of Derek now, between his spread legs, and then he's kneeling down on the carpet before he even quite realizes what he's doing.

Derek's breath catches audibly, and his hands come out to rest on either side of Ryan's neck, nails digging into the thick muscle there, and Ryan thinks, _fuck it_ , before he's scrabbling at Derek's sweats, dragging them down as Derek shifts and gasps and tries to help, already hardening up a little under Ryan's watch.

"Sorry, sorry, I just - I didn't mean to push it," Ryan slurs, breathing hot over Derek's dick and cutting himself off by taking the head into his mouth, feeling the hot shiver go down his spine like it always does when he's sucking cock.

He never realized how much he enjoyed this, before Derek. But Derek lends so much to the experience, too, like he is now - squirming to keep from thrusting up, fingers restless at Ryan's neck, ruffling the hair at the back of his neck up the wrong way, then tugging on it in a way that makes Ryan almost choke, moaning with Derek's dick pressed too far back in his throat.

Derek's only quiet because he's too busy panting, head thrown back against the back of the couch. Ryan pulls off and gives him a moment, stroking him root to tip with one hand to spread around his spit, the small spurts of precome already slicking up the head.

"No, get -" Derek's blushing, cheeks hot-looking with it, and he's pawing at Ryan's head a little mindlessly, trying to get Ryan's mouth back on his dick.

Ryan pulls back a few more inches, just to mess with him. He grins up at Derek, his lips already feeling stretched, a little sore. "Man, that's rude."

Derek whines, hips flexing up, and Ryan's grin fades as he eyes Derek, speculative.

He leans in, sucks wet and messy on just the head, and the way Derek gasps at it and tries to thrust in further makes Ryan drop a hand to his own lap, grind his palm into his cock over his sweats.

Derek's hand in his hair _hurts_ when Ryan pulls off again - Derek's always stronger than people give him credit for -, and Derek hisses at the loss. "Oh, come on, I'm _this close_ , you can't just."

Ryan breathes over his dick in response but doesn't take it in again. He licks a hot stripe up the inside of Derek's thigh, feels it trembling minutely under his tongue, and isn't that just one hell of a power trip.

"Be patient," he says, then pinches the damp strip of skin.

Derek chokes off a shout, hips coming up off the couch, and Ryan catches his eyes blown wide with arousal, files it away for a later time. He has to pace himself, with this.

Of course, it's not like Ryan's any saint of patience himself, and it's only about two seconds later that he bites down on the sensitive skin of Derek's thigh. He nips it hard enough to make Derek choke again, curl a hand around himself this time and start jerking himself off with a pretty fascinating desperation.

Ryan wrests Derek's hand off his dick and pins his wrist to the couch cushions with one hand. Derek screws his eyes shut, hips still working like he's fucking the air, and jesus christ, the picture of it. Ryan's dick is _ruining_ his sweatpants where it's leaking, straining up through the soft cloth obscenely.

He's _not_ as patient as he preaches, and his mouth won't stop watering, and he wants to make Derek wait longer, see just how long he'd sit here and _let_ Ryan draw it out, but. He sucks Derek down with a little more recklessness than is wise, but it's worth it, so worth it, for the shocked, relieved sounds Derek makes, one hand still pinned to the couch and one stuffed in his mouth to keep from yelling. Ryan jerks, shivers, and cups his hand around his dick in time to come messily in his sweats.

Ryan's mouth is stuffed, his cheeks hollowing as he tries to balance depth and suction, and Derek is just about writhing under him on the couch, panting and gasping nonsense words, Ryan's name and little bits of words that sound like, "Please, please".

And this is what gets Ryan in trouble, the tendency to take a leap of faith maybe too-soon, but he sucks a finger into his mouth next to Derek's dick, then draws it out and rests it easily against the strip of skin behind Derek's balls.

"Oh jesus, please." Derek's voice is shot, which is funny as Ryan is the one on his knees, but Ryan's more than willing to oblige, pressing up and in just a little, letting his neck and mouth go slack as Derek loses his mind, thrusting in and in and groaning down the apartment as he does, coming all over Ryan's tongue and spilling out onto his chin just a little.

He slumps back when he's done but threads a hand back through Ryan's hair, nails scratching at his scalp absently.

"Jesus," he breathes.

Ryan sits back on his knees, wincing at the feel of damp fabric across his crotch, and waits for Derek to recover.

It's just a few minutes before Derek opens his eyes and looks down at Ryan.

"I think our pizza is late."

Ryan huffs a laugh, standing up with another wince and starfishing Derek with one hand, shoving his head back into the couch.

Derek makes protesting noises as Ryan limps awkwardly toward his bedroom to change as, yeah, their doorbell inevitably rings, and Derek is the only halfway-presentable one to answer the door.

"You got me pineapple, right?" Derek yells after him as he struggles back into his pants, and his voice still sounding scratchy makes Ryan smile.


End file.
